Homecomings
by MikoNoNyte
Summary: Shadow Hearts Covenant SPOILERS! Brief scenes following the characters after the end of the game. Chapter 10 You knew it was coming: Yuri
1. Blanc

These are more or less stand-alone vignettes that I've worked on, time permitting. There is an over-all theme and there are spoilers for Shadow Hearts Covenant. And Poochie, for those who don't know, is the name Yoshiko Kawashima used for Blanc in the Japanese game. I preferred it to snowball. It's actually funny when you think about it.

I don't own Covenant, Nautilus has that honor, to whom I bow in admiration.

Chapter 1

Blanca

Yoshiko knelt by the pond in the garden, the stone lamp at her side. She sniffed slightly, catching the scent of the candle burning within and then turned once more to watch the water on the pond. She was waiting. It had been too long, but she was waiting. Her father was inside, writing, but she wanted to wait in the quiet garden - for him. She hoped he would be all right; he was strong after all, but they were going into such danger!

A plopping sound in the pool caught her attention and she smiled as she caught sight of a brilliant koi swimming by. She bent down and dribbled her fingers in the pond, moving them like sea fronds in the quiet water. The koi ignored her entreaties and swam silently away. The young girl sat back on her heels and sighed. Where could he be?

A nearby insect buzzed softly and wings churred in the distance. She counted the seconds, letting her hands fall to her knees, smoothing out the folds of her pleated skirt. She was about to rise to go in when she heard the soft tread of feet on the outside path and a moment later the gate swung in. There, in the night, was her friend; his white coat draggled and torn, bits of dirt and - could that be blood - on his muzzle. But he yelped softly and ran across the close-clipped lawn to bowl her over, knocking her down, wetting her face with his tongue and she laughed, tears joining the wet licks on her cheeks.

"Oh, Poochie, you came back."

Looking down at her the white wolf panted, his long tongue tickling her nose. Blanca was home.


	2. The Man Among Men

The Man Among Men 

The lights were hot, the floors dirty and the ring was ripe with sweat and blood and the heavy odors of men. The sounds of people talking, shouting and the hawkers crying their wares, "Get your programs here!" "Oi get yer beer! Cold beer!" could be heard backstage but were nothing more than a minor distraction. In the next few minutes his manager would be here, hat pulled low over one eye, large Cuban cigar shoved between rotten teeth and an voice still thick with Yorkshire. But even that was minor. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would take it all; his strength against the strength of another man, at stake: the champion of all champions.

Not that he was worried. How could he be when he alone, out of hundreds before him, had beaten - the Master: the Gran Hatena. His master, his teacher, Great Gama himself, had passed on his teachings, his philosophy, his wisdom. No lesser man could beat him, and no lesser man would beat his student - no, his successor.

Joachim stood as his manager entered, his blue eyes wide with excitement.

"Joey, you ready for this? You ready to show these American bums what true English muscle can do?" the manager asked, his teetch still clamped hard on the cigar.

Joachim nodded, ignoring the "English muscle" remark, after all, his manager didn't know the truth. He flexed for a moment, feeling the strength of his muscles rippling as he did so. He felt his arm with his own fingers and smiled, just a little. Only he knew what damage this arm could do - had in fact done, in the defense of their world. Only he knew, as did his companions, how hard he had fought to save their world from the machinations of villany; how much sweat and blood had gone into saving the world. But that was a hero's job, world saving - and Joachim was a hero. A super hero.

With a smile, then a laugh, he strode purposefully toward the square circle and his destiny: the heavy weight wrestling championship of the world.


	3. Lucia

Chapter 3

Lucia

'She always said I wasn't very smart, but I was smart enough to get back here when I wanted to,' Lucia thought and looked across the table at the aged Carla. Her instructor had been old when she, Lucia, best girl of the Divination School, had gone adventuring with Yuri and the others. But now she was much older still, her hair almost white, her face still full but sagging now, her once sharp eyes rheumy with age.

'Well, maybe I didn't quite get back at the right time, but that's okay.'

Lucia turned nut-brown eyes toward the Mediterranean; the water today was so bright and blue it was almost blinding in the afternoon sun. Across that great expanse of water was the man she was waiting for: Lawrence. She thought back to the lovely Bride's Dress he had given her before he left for Arabia. It was packed lovingly away in her bedroom, along with the assorted Tarot cards, aroma oils, and dance fans she had collected in her travels. She looked forward to showing them to Lawrence when he returned.

Lawrence. Now there was a handsome man; one worthy of her attentions. She wondered how much longer she'd have to wait for him to finish his 'secret mission'. With a sigh she turned back toward Carla and poured the elder teacher another cup of tea. But when she reached for the sugar bowl she misjudged her movements and knocked it over, spilling sugar over the tabletop. Carla tut-tutted and Lucia quickly began to clean it up but then hesitated when her long fingers left such delicate trails in the sugar. Fascinated, she moved her white-tipped nails through the sugar once more, her eyes focusing on the white powder. She could feel her power at the tip of her fingers, the slight 'seeing' ability she had spent years honing under Carla's attention. Relaxing, she let it loose to play amongst the grains of sugar.

Sand, as white as sugar, blazed across her vision; light blindingly bright – was that the sun? Where am I? Shadows moved; great hulking beasts crossed her vision, with men riding them. Movement, shadows, then the sparkle of the sea and smoke. Lucia blinked, clearing her vision before looking up at Carla and sweeping away the sugar.

"Carla?"

"Yes, what is it?" the old woman looked up at her student and squinted in the afternoon sun, her eyes not as clear as they had been, but her senses still sharp as a tack. "Did you see something?"

Lucia consided her answer. "Yes, I think so," she finally said continuing to scrape the sugar off the table and into the bowl. She paused, and looked up at her teacher before glancing out over the water, the glitter of the sun on the coast matching the sparkle in her mind and she lowered her eyes, her lashes shaded with more than mascara. "Have you ever heard of… Akaba?"

Carla nodded, wondering what her protégé was on about.

"I believe so. It's a coastal city in Arabia. Why?"

Lucia paused, waiting, listening one final time to some indecernable sound and a swirl of light that made her mind hurt. "I don't know. I think Lawrence is there."

Carla snorted. "Finish cleaning up that mess and get us some fresh tea, silly girl."

Historical Note: On September 6, 1917 T. E. Lawrence and his Arab forces took Akaba from the Turks. It becomes Feisal's new base of operations.


	4. Naniwa

Chapter 4

For those who may not know, Jinpachiro is Yuri's father, the same character who was called "Ben" in Shadow Hearts.

Naniwa

I am an old man now, and I often think I have seen too much. Our world has changed beyond our humble imagings and I – I have seen more of its changings than I wanted to. My home, my homeland, has changed – in some ways for the better, but we still make war on our neighbors for our neighbor's goods; we still kill haphazadly and wantonly in the name of Empire. When the Tokugawa age, the Shogun's and warring factions, all faded into the sane world of the Meiji, we thought we had changed with it. But it was still a world of might and right.

I have taught many men in my day; worked both within the government and without it, to better our country. But too many times men of limited visions... men with visions of ultimate power, have won the day. Kantaro Ishimura. Jinpachiro Hyuga. My two best students and my saddest failures.

Ishimura became the Foreign Minister, but his goals are more far flung than simply establishing relations with other countries. His goal is more toward conquering those lands; putting in puppet rulers, establishing an order that would put Japan in prominance over all the nearby countries. To protect us, he says. We argued, Kantaro and I. We argued long and hard for many many months. First over books, then tea, and then saki. We argued for and against many of the ideas he put forth, and I thought him a sharp and concise thinker with many a good plan for the future, if – IF he could control his fear of outsiders. I was wrong.

Sadly wrong, as Ishimura's dreams moved closer to reality, his visions wrought pain, and suffering for the innocent and blood… so much blood. Can anything every wipe our hands clean?

And Hyuga. Jin was another student, one of many, but one more like Ishimura than I would have thought. Sharp thinker, concise; he would argue just as vehemently, but not loudly. We shared many a quiet night under the stars, lamps burning low with crickets singing their mantras in the garden, argueing quietly about the direction Japan should take, both politically and economically. But Hyuga was a soldier, a dog of the army. And though he worked for a better Japan, and hoped for a better future, he still did what he was told, until that day he took the assignment that lead him to China. Then everything changed; he changed too. I knew when he came to bid me farewell that, even though I offered to share sake with him on his return, that he would not be coming back. Little did I know then...

Now I sit here in my garden and watch my young daughter, Yoshiko play with her dog and remember another who I would have liked to take as a student. Hyuga's son. Not a sharp thinker, but passionate about his feelings and what he thought as the good in mankind. His passion would have held him in good stead against my earlier students. It certainly did against Ishimura. I wonder what ever happened to him? If he has, as rumors say, defeated a great enemy out on the Asuka plains.

We may never know, but I think, like his father, he was defending what he believed in the most.


	5. Roger

Chapter 5

Roger

I waited for them all that day and into the next, sitting in the cockpit of my plane. But after Yuri and the others went up to the Vessel, they did not return; moreover the machine itself vanished without a trace. If my understanding was correct, it was moving back in time, to some unknown horizon where Kato intends to make his stand. I hope Yuri and the others can stop him. Of course, if they don't, would I know the difference?

I thought about that for long minutes, then let the thought run away. Of course I would! I am older than Kato or his memories after all. I waited past the setting of the sun then started up the jet's engines and headed for Inugami Village. It was only a few minutes away by plane and I landed beyond the Forest of Wind and made my way quickly... well as quickly as **_I_** can to the village. The beautiful Saki was waiting at the Shrine of Sukune, her eyes scanning the dark waters of the mystic pool. I felt for her, kneeling there on the cold, cold stones, her hands pressed into the sharp rocks, her eyes peering so intently. I, who am both scientist and priest, can understand the workings of the universe better than I can the workings of a mother's heart. Yet her heart I understood; and I felt saddened. I joined her at the water's edge, sitting just out of a puddle of water, and waited with her through the night.

Morning came and went and after a while I left her, still kneeling at the water's edge. I could no longer stand her silent pain and I knew my prayers would not be answered there. I wandered the village for a while, stopping to hear tales told proudly of the Inugami Clan and their fighting spirit. Not a man, woman nor child there believed that Kurando would not return. They had faith. Saki had faith. I – I don't know what I had. I felt empty inside, as if a part of me had finally shriveled and died. Had I, by not destroying the Émigré, brought about this tragedy? Had I listened to Yuri that day long ago, would the Vessel of Yamato have ever risen?

I had no answers. And by late afternoon, I had taken the lonely path back through the woods to my jet and flown home to Wales. I would wait for Yuri there. He'd come back _there_, if he came back at all. I prayed to God he'd come home safe. But even as I parked the jet in the hangar below, I felt my hands growing chill, and a wind blew in from somewhere chilling me to the bones. I felt suddenly very old. And over supper that night I knew that I would look for him tomorrow and the next day. I would look for him the way I had looked for Jovis and the answer to the mystery of Sapientes Gladio. And I would find him, one way or the other.


	6. Saki

Chapter 6

Saki

The Well of Sukune pulsed with the tides of earth, the waterfall rushing and thundering in the enclosed shrine. On a lone rocky outcrop in the middle of the pool of dark water, Saki Inugami knelt. The water, which a moment before had been dark and mysterious, now churned with blue foam and froth from the falls, the vision gone, and with it, her last hope. The Vessel of Yamato too had vanished into the mists of the pool and she knew not its final disposition but this she did know: her son was missing. He did not step out of the mists that surrounded the Vessel before it vanished. Neither did the young Anastasia. Both young people lost for good. Before her heavy heart could break, she rose and left the shrine, her steps heavy, her head down in sorrow.

Was it only a week ago that her life had taken a change for the better? Surely not. Surely her son returning to her with the young Anastasia had been longer than seven days? And her nephew, the young rapscallion Yuri – her brother's only child. How her heart ached when she first saw him standing before her at the Shrine, his youthful strength and vitality a radiant aura around him and his eyes, so like her brothers. Her heart had caught in her throat that day, but she had work to do. But later, when they had come to visit her in her room, then she had wanted to reach out to him, take him in her arms and hold him, the only link she had to her beloved brother, now gone. But time had been fleeting, and she put aside her wants and desires for the future of them all, with the hope of seeing her nephew again. She should have known better, for his dark star had winked out just as had her son's.

She took the stairs to her now empty home in silence, the late afternoon sun warm on her shoulders. The buzzing of insects could be heard in the garden and the lone call of a tree frog in the pond. She remembered the day her son had first brought the tree frogs to the garden, and how she had admonished him. But he had stood there, all of five years old, and told her quietly but firmly that they were staying because he liked them; they made him laugh. She had relented and now, now that he had not returned, the call of that frog brought tears to her eyes. What would she do now?

The door to her house was in front of her, the frosted glass panes bright in the sunlight; but she did not see them. She was seeing Kurando taking his first sword lessons, his little hands wrapped around the bamboo kendo sword and barely able to lift it above his head. The day he told her he was going to go with Sensei Kawashima and be his bodyguard in Tokyo; her heart had pounded so hard in her chest she thought it would break. And now...

Now she stood on the threshold of the house her husband had built for her, for them, the three of them, and she stood alone.


	7. Kurando & Anastasia

Chapter 7

Anastasia & Kurando

Anastasia's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her chest and in her throat. Kurando, her brave samurai friend, and hopefully someday lover, was holding her in his strong arms and she trembled with nerves. Below on the plain of Takamagahara, her friends Karin and Yuri remained. She hoped, no fervently prayed, that they would leave together. Karin was a beautiful woman, warm, vibrant and alive. These past days and weeks had been hard on her and Yuri, insensitive clod that he was, had not done anything past his original overtures and declaration of love. Had he not, at Nihonbashi Park, admitted he loved her? And had not Karin admitted her love for him, that day at the Shrine of Sukune? How could they _not_ be together?

The mists surrounded them and they clung to each other, hard. Kurando reacted without thinking, following some inner voice that said 'do it' without regard to the consequences. He held the young Anastasia in his arms fiercely, and as the winds of time lifted them both, he looked down at Karin and his cousin Yuri, and smiled. For the first time in ages, he smiled.

He felt the tug of the winds on him, a swirling cyclone of energy carrying them both to, he hoped, to a world they could live in together. He hoped it would be a peaceful world, a world not filled with the strife of conflicts that he had known these past few years, but mostly he hoped for a world that would not bring conflict to them as a couple.

He waited as his feet hit solid ground and the mist cleared to reveal their new location. He looked around at the pristine woods, the deep green of forests rising above him and he turned with a smile to Anastasia, his fiancé.

"Well, we're here," he said looking down at the pixie-like expression of his lover's face.

Anastasia looked around, puzzled. The mountains rose above them in a near wall of impenetrable natural majesty, clothed in lush green forests and overhead, birds flew in a clear blue sky. Below them, down slope from their current position, was a small lake, a wooden boat moored at a small pier. But looking around, Ana could find no signs of life.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Don't you recognize it?" he said with a smile.

"No, should I?"

"Well, I'll have to show you around then," he said with a grin and took her arm, leading her up the path away from the lake.

"Kurando..." the young princess exclaimed, "where are you taking me? And where are we?"

"Someplace safe – I hope. At least it will be for us," he said mysteriously and helped her over a particularly rough spot in the path. Above them Anastasia could see a bare cliff rising into the sky and she tugged free of Kurando's hand to look down again at the forested valley. The subtle slope of the mountain, the trees and the lake all reminded her of Katsuragi in Japan. But the lay of the forest, the quiet... it just didn't feel the same. She turned once more to her fiancé to demand an answer only to find him looking down at her with a grin on his face.

"You're laughing at me, Kurando," she said.

"No, I just like seeing you this way. Come on, we're almost there," he said and reached out for her hand again. They climbed up the path to just below the cliff before Kurando then took a left hand turn; narrow steps had been carved into the cliff base leading up to another path overhead and Kurando took them up those as well. After winding around the cliff, they came out onto a wide ledge, a small clearing behind them and Anastasia exclaimed at the clear wide view of the valley below.

"Kurando - I recognize this place now," Ana exclaimed.

"Yes, it's the Forest of Winds. We'll be home shortly."

"Yes, home," Ana said softly and took Kurando's hand again, letting him lead them the rest of the way through the forest to the path leading to Inugami Village. However, the path was barely there, and the village, when they arrived, was nothing more than a few huts abutted against the cave of the shrine.

"I don't understand, Kurando," the Russian princess said, looking in confusion at the small village. "What happened to Inugami Village – your home?"

"Come on," he said and the two of them walked slowly down the path to the shrine. On one side was a small field, submerged in water, with green spikes of rice growing tall and rich, while just beyond was a threshing barn with a couple of women working there. Kurando smiled, nodding his head at them, their curious gazes holding the two strangers for a moment before lowing to their tasks once more. At the small path to the cave Kurando stopped. He looked up the hill to the left, where his mother's house had been, now nothing more than grass and trees.

"I'll build you a house here," he said, indicating the bare hill. "And we'll have a family, and be safe." He looked down at Anastasia's puzzled expression and nodded. "We'll have a family, and I'll protect you and this village with my power and my sword," he declared.

"Kurando," Anastasia said, her bright green eyes taking in the small, nearly primitive village and the barren hillside. "I don't understand."

Kurando reached around her, drawing her close into his arms, her back to his chest and he put his chin onto her head, the fur of her hat tickling his cheeks.

"This is Inugami Village, or will be. The Shrine of Sukune is here, but there's not a guardian. And I will build us a home here; I will protect you and this village and this land with all my heart."

"Kurando-"

"No, let me finish," he said into her hair and tightened his grip on her slightly. "I wished for a place for you and me to live out our lives, where I can do the most good, for us and for my people. It wasn't until the mists faded that I knew where that would be."

"In Katsuragi, but... your mother?" Anastasia asked, trying to comprehend what Kurando was telling her.

"Is not here; she will not be born for a thousand years; nor Yuri, nor your family."

"Kurando!" Anastasia cried and turned in his arms looking up at the young swordsman.

"It was the only thing I could think of. Together, you and I will create our world, our family, the Inugami."

Anastasia blinked, green eyes puzzled, and then suddenly brightening at the thought of a future to build with Kurando and she smiled.

"Yes, we can do that; we can start our _own_ clan."

Kurando nodded, knowing that some day, in the far future, his children's children's children will save their world. But in the meantime, he and Anastasia had all the time in the world to build their future.


	8. Karin

Chapter 8:

Karin

"Yuri ..." I said, looking at this young man whom I so desperately loved but who would never love me.

"Don't look at me like that. I'll see you soon," he said and I could tell he wasn't speaking the truth, so I tried again.

"Please, please promise me - I don't want to lose you forever!" I was begging, hoping something would change his mind, change his heart toward me. I was begging and praying as hard as I could until -

"Yeah," he said and my heart broke. Now I knew I'd never see him again. My eyes began to tear, blurring the vision of this timeless place, this Plain of Takamagahara. The winds of Time whipped around me and I felt suddenly lighter as my body lifted up on the winds. I reached down to him, wanting to touch him one last time, wanting the weight in my heart to pull me back to him when suddenly, he called out.

"Karin!" and reached out to me, grasping my hand with his fingers, holding more tightly than I thought he ever would. "Karin," he said and I felt my heart lurch at the tears forming in the corners of his scarlet eyes, overflowing onto his cheeks and drizzling like rain down past his chin.

"Yuri…"

"Thank you," he says finally and then my hand slips through his fingers, insubstantial as my thoughts, as empty as my hopes. And then everything faded away.

I hadn't expected to love him. Really, I tried not to. But when I awoke that day, my vision blurry and the world dark, I saw this handsome man bending over me and his eyes… his fiery orbs reminded me of someone – someone I loved, once, long ago. He spoke, and I thought I understood him, then I took his offered hand and rose shakily to my feet. I was dressed so oddly, I thought as I looked down at myself. Now where had I gotten such a short dress?

He took off his coat, an army coat, and draped it around my shoulders, muttering something in my ears, his voice so soft, so gentle, so much like that other voice, the one in my dream.

He lead me away that day, taking me to a friend's home, leaving me to be cared for by the man, Naniwa, and his young daughter. She was a precocious one, and she taught me so much, including the language that came slowly tripping off my tongue. And soon he returned and we spent afternoons together in the garden; taking long walks and talking slowly – he so patient with my halting first sentences in this almost familiar tongue and he - he filled me with stories of his life and what he hoped to do.

He had a home in the mountains and asked me to go there with him. He asked me that in the garden as the koi splashed quietly and the sound of cicadas chirred in the early evening. I looked at him and realized that, though I knew him so little, I loved him. Like a long lost friend. I, who had no memory of where I had come from, no idea who I was, had fallen in love with my rescuer. How romantic.

I remember laughing at myself over that one afternoon as I sat on the porch of his sister's home in Katsuragi. I was rocking our young son and listening to the friendly voices of our neighbors and his charming sister. He had brought me to his home in the mountains and I had fallen in love with the beauty and the peace of the place. We shared his sister's home, for he traveled much for his work. But his sister was kind, and beautiful, and full of warmth and laughter and made me feel welcome, so that this was our home too – mine, my husband Jinpachiro's and Yuri's.


	9. Gepetto

Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you Lord Kain – I had forgotten

Gepetto

How many times did I say to myself that I wished I could do it all over again? That I would change things- make things right. I don't know, probably a hundred, maybe a thousand times. Every day I traveled with Yuri and Karin and fought battles with monsters and men, my little marionette Cornelia being for me my weapon against pain was all the time, my weapon against myself as well. Why I made a doll to look like her… well, I cannot beat myself over that – my teacher did the same thing. Death makes fools of us all.

We stood that day on those disintegrating plains and I wondered what each one of those people would pray for. I knew Joachim, big oaf that he was, wanted to be a hero in many eyes, but especially in the eyes of children. I knew that Blanc had taken a shine to little Yoshiko in Japan and the others… well, I don't know. I know Yuri wants to be with Alice more than anything else, but so much lately has bruised and beaten him down – like that day with Ishimura. He tried so hard to beat that old man – to teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, but instead he ended up with the lesson; that no matter how much violence you visit on someone, it won't bring about lasting peace. Pity too, as we could all use a little of that.

Looking at him across the violently breaking plains of that horrible place, I could see his oddly colored eyes shifting back and forth, looking at each of us, and lingering longest on young Karin and I wondered. I wondered what _he_ would pray for. But then I wondered what _I_ would pray for and turned my thoughts to that. And it wasn't long before I felt the winds lifting my old bones up and carrying me to a better world. How did I know it would be better? Hehe, because I was going to get a second chance.

The caravan was parked outside the small village, those two foolish brothers had just pulled in and I hopped out as best I could with my old bones. The world seemed unsettled for a moment, a bit dizzy before it settled into its normal routine. And I felt a sense of urgency. Now why I should feel that, I wondered. I shook my head, pulling out the box with my marionettes and… that's when it hit me. I needed to make a call. Send a wire. Now, where was the messenger when you needed one?

I found the wire messenger just down the block from the theatre and stopped in to send a quick telegram home. My wife was back in Paris with our daughter and I wanted to be sure everything was all right – Cornelia had been feeling under the weather when I left early in the week. The stop here would be a one-nighter, and then on across the border to Belgium. How those loopy brothers found venues for us in such odd places! But the patrons paid well and I made enough to keep both Cornelia and me in marionettes; my dear, sweet Cornelia loved my puppets as much as I did and begged me more than once to make her a special doll. I had one in mind...

The telegram clerk finished taking the message and told me he'd find me at the theatre if there were a reply and I toddled off to set up my stage. It was good to be a puppeteer and I loved my work. That evening my stage was set up for a grand performance of Sleeping Beauty; my darling Catherine was bedecked in her finest gown for the ball scene and Pierre had really outdone himself. He stood preening and happy as I let Catherine dance on the ends of her strings and twirl in the full-skirted dress with the bright sequins and I laughed, more at my delight than at Pierre's. And when the lights went down in the little theatre and my spot lights came up, my puppets came alive, dancing and singing their story as full and as grand as any opera.

After the show the children all gathered to meet Catherine and the other marionettes and of course, I loved each and every one of them; their smiling and delighted faces so full of life and love. And then the clerk from the wire shop arrived as well, but he wasn't smiling. He had a reply for me and he waded through the children to give it to me. Pierre was at my side and took the paper, opening it for me as my hands were still twisted with twine, and read the words that brought my heat pounding to my throat.

"Gepetto, darling, please return at once. Cornelia is very ill; she is dying"

"Oh no! This is terrible," squealed Pierre. "We must get you home at once!" he turned quickly and yelled to his brother, their words passing to quickly for me to hear as the pounding of my heart was still loud in my ears. My baby, my Cornelia was _dying_.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity as help was found to take down the stage and put it safe; my marionettes were boxed and stored and the whole time I stood numb in the middle of the theatre, my mind refusing to do more than dwell on the impossible. But I had not understood the power of persuasion of the brothers Magimel. The next I knew I was being lifted bodily into the seat of their truck, that same crazy wagon we used in our theatre work, and the truck lurched forward into the night, the road ahead little more than a dark ribbon in his head lamps.

The next few hours were a nightmare of dark roads, dirt tracks, and shortcuts. I did not know where we were or how we would ever get to Paris, but Gerard drove like a madman and brought us at sunup to the outskirts of the City of Lights. And as the sun came in rosy dawn, I climbed the steps to our home, my hands shaking, and my lips moving with the prayer I'd muttered throughout the night: Please God, let me be in time.

I went directly to the bedroom, my little Cornelia lying so small and wan in our big bed. My wife was sitting beside her and moved aside when I approached. We spoke not a word, just a nod as I sat down, my aching bones for once, not bothering me as I leaned forward to take Cornelia's little hands in mine. I held her, my heart hurting for the pounding in my chest... how could God be so cruel to take my little baby from me?

I held her thus for long minutes, watching her chest rise and fall so slowly, each breath might be her last. Her cheeks, usually so rosy, were pale and sallow; how long, dear lord, how long...

There was a clatter in the room behind me as booted feet climbed the outer stairs and the wooden furnishings were bumped and shoved aside. I was about to yell a garrulous remark when a man came beside me, setting his black bag on the bed.

"Please, monsieur Gepetto, let me," the man said and I looked up to see Doctor Deniaud standing over me. I moved aside, letting the learned doctor take my place by Cornelia's side and instead paced the threadbare carpet at the foot of the bed. He hmphed and muttered to himself a few times and I went back to my silent prayers from before. But after a while, my lovely wife Elizabeth took me from the room and brought me food to eat in the kitchen. Not that I wanted to eat, but Gerard was hungry and he had brought in delicious foods from the nearby bistro – steaming bowls of soup, coc au vin and bread fresh from the boulangerie. The smells enticed my appetite and I ate a little, dipping my bread in the soup.

Gerard, bless his soul, began telling my wife stories of our travels, segueing away to tales of he and his brother Pierre before they met me. As Gerard has a sense of humor much drier than Pierre's, his story telling was more along the lines of gossip and Elizabeth sat mesmerized – well so was I, but I was tired.

The next I knew the doctor was tapping me on my shoulder; I had slumped over and my face was pressed into the wooden table, my beard bedraggled and mussed and skewed to one side. I had fallen asleep sometime during the night and the sun was now offering yellow light through the dingy glass of the kitchen. I looked up at the doctor and felt hope in my heart: he was smiling. I'm sure I broke the chair in my haste to return to the bedroom.

My little angel was curled in the blanket, her sallow complexion now a bit rosier. Whatever medicines the doctor had used, he'd saved my baby's life – I could never repay him. I sat down and the jostling of the bed woke Cornelia who opened her big green eyes and smiled, ever so sweetly.

"Pappa, you're home," she said and then fell back to sleep. I cried softly at her side, touching her silky hair with my rough fingers before finally returning to the kitchen. Elizabeth had gone with the doctor and Gerard was standing by the table, a look on his serious face that had me wondering what he was up to.

"She is better, you little girl?" he asked and when I affirmed he sighed, breathily. "Mon deux, that was close. I had to promise him the moon, that doctor," Gerard said then smiled. "But he was worth it."

"You know we don't have a lot of money, Gerard. How can I repay…?"

Gerard waved it off as if I had said something amusing.

"You will find a way, my friend. You know my brother likes handsome young men, nes pas?" and he laughed and before long I laughed too. It didn't matter what kind of price Gerard would extract from me – for he had helped to save my beautiful Cornelia and I would always be grateful.


	10. Yuri

Chapter 10

Yuri

One by one he watched them leave, floating up on the winds of time. He hoped they would each go to the best place, the happiest place they could find. He knew that Kurando and Anastasia would be together, and good for them! For all the teasing he'd given the pair, he really hoped they'd find happiness. Lucia and Joachim floated away with Blanc right behind them. He hoped his stupid dog would be happy too. The old man, his doll still dressed like Alice, floated up, his whiskered face grinning and that left only Karin.

He didn't know how to say goodbye to her and he didn't want to. While the words ran through his mind a searing pain shot through his chest and he groaned, one hand clasping the place where the Holy Mistletoe had pierced his skin and it began to glow a milky white. Karin turned to him, worry on her face.

"Looks like times' up," he said, looking down as the glow slowly faded and the pain receeded. "It's the Mistletoe's curse; I knew I was living on borrowed time…"

Karin reached out and touched his arm, her fingers delicate in spite of her martial training and they quivered just a little.

"Are you… are you afraid?" she asked softly and Yuri shook his head. "Will you lose your memories too?"

He tried to avoid that question and Karin's intense eyes.

"Never," he said and tried to make her believe it.

"Yuri," she began and her hand gripped his wrist.

He turned back, seeing the agony in her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I- I'll see you soon."

"Promise me. I don't want to lose you forever!"

Her heart melting, her eyes twinkling on the verge of tears, Karin reached out to him, her arms open to embrace him with suddenly the winds lifted her up and she pulled free. She floated slowly upward and Yuri watched her rise and he felt almost relived she was leaving and then he leapt upward, grabbing her hand, pulling her back down for just a moment.

"Karin," he said and tears filled his eyes, rolling down his cheeks to drip onto his jacket. "Thank you," he said and then she pulled free, floating higher and higher, her soft eyes almost gone from his view.

"I'll see you all again someday," he shouted into the empty warp and then sighed. "Now it's my turn."

The winds of time whipped and howled around him, sounding like the lost souls he'd heard in all those desolate and desperate placed he'd fought in; Zhaoyang Village, Dalian, Wuhan, Nemeton. So much of his life had been fighting and so little had been with friends. He knew he'd miss the friends he'd made, especially Karin. And he wondered and hoped, just a little, that he'd meet them again someday. He listened to the ghostly voices around him, Alice's sweet voice echoing in his heart as the grinding rocks and columns of stone rose on the ground quakes. Sound screeched past him and he felt himself lifted up and he closed his eyes in acceptance.

The winds blew hard over the sea and the surf crashed beneath him like thunder. The sky was mostly cloudy and they scudded on their bellies, shredded by the wind. The long grasses waived at him and he stood silent, watching the play of wind as it swirled around, twisting, turning and circling back on itself through the grass.

A distance away across the bluff was another cliff, this one surmounted by an old building, large, and broken. He turned and watched as a lone seagull winged inland, silent on its quest for food, and he watched, fascinated as the bird blended into the swaying grass in the distance. Just below a farmhouse was nestled in the lea of a small hillock, grey-white wisps of smoke rising from the flue and a pair of cows stood chewing their cuds, tails to the wind. He smiled, the familiarity tickling a memory, which then fled on the wind.

Curious he turned to walk down the hill heading toward the large shadowy grey structure looming over the next cliff. He felt a sudden chill, a frisson traveling up his spine as he looked at the grey and brown hulk and wondered why he suddenly felt afraid. Or was that fear. He frowned, trying to catch the thought that went with the feeling but it too fled on the wind. This place seemed so familiar to him; had he been here before?

A few more paces and he paused again, looking out over the landscape, his eyes drinking the images of the overcast landscape and the howling of the wind. When did he get here, he thought. And where is 'here'. He searched his memory, scouring it for a moment before giving it up; thinking was too much work, so he continued on down the lee of the cliff, when movement below caught his eyes. He blinked. Someone was walking up the dirt track leading to the cliff and he waited as the little man climbed up to meet him.

He was an odd old man, dressed in brown robes, knobby knees showing beneath the hem. He smiled, the image of the old man amusing him.

Finally, the ancient arrived, panting slightly from the climb. "Yuri, is that you?" the small figure said with a voice that cracked and wheezed. "I can't believe I finally found you after searching for so long."

The young man looked in surprise at the old man who stopped a few feet from him, puffing and wheezing from shortness of breath. He was very small, barely reaching to his own waist and was all brown skin and bones, with two long wisps of white hair at the back of his head that twisted in the wind. Yuri tilted his head, puzzled.

"Yuri?" he asked slowly, trying the name out on his tongue. "Who are you?"

The old man suddenly looked stricken, large eyes bulging then filling with tears that rushed down his cheeks. He ran toward Yuri and butted his head against his thigh, holding him with bony fingers, still sobbing softly.

After a minute Yuri pushed him back gently, and looked down, even more puzzled than before. Who was this old man? How did he know me? Who... who is Yuri?

Wiping tears with a brown sleeve, the old man looked up into the young man's red eyes and snorted.

"Stupid kid," he muttered. "Can't even remember your father's face!" he said.

Yuri stood up, confusion plainly stamped on his face.

"F-father?" This old man was his father, he thought. That should mean something; but looking down at the strange creature, he felt trust. The old man came up to him again and put his arm around his waist, pulling him forward.

"Let's go," he said. "It's cold here," and they began to walk back down the path toward the building in the distance and Yuri looked down at the old man, his father. He wasn't feeling cold. He was feeling warm, content and happy.

A/N: That's it. Thanks for letting me get my angst out. Hope you all enjoyed reading these little vignettes. And sorry to depress any of you with my choice of "ending". We all know, or at least those who have played, that there's another – more warm and sappy – ending. Think I'll have to go write some warm, sappy, Yuri/Alice now to make up for this.


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